Hettie of Hope Street

by Groves, Annie

  ‘Well, inbetween times you must come here to us, then. You will enjoy listening to our school choir, and it will be so lovely to have you. Dr Kenton, the school’s music teacher, is very proud of them, and says they are far superior to the Bluecoat School boys.’

  Connie’s husband Harry was the headmaster of a private boys’ school and he, Connie and their children lived in the headmaster’s house right next to the school. In addition to her responsibilities as a headmaster’s wife, Connie was also still very involved in the nursery for children whose parents were out at work or who, in some cases, had no parents to care for them at all. She had set up this nursery prior to her marriage to Harry.

  ‘So, when do you start your new job, Hettie?’

  ‘Next week, but I shall need to have a new dress first, shan’t I, Mam?’

  ‘Yes, my love, you will. Mrs Buchanan has told us that Hettie will need a proper tea dress to wear when she sings,’ Ellie explained to her sister.

  ‘Well, you will be certain to find something here in Liverpool. We shall go out together tomorrow and look.’

  ‘Connie, I wonder, would you mind taking Hettie to get a dress without me? Only I have already arranged to see Iris tomorrow.’

  Hettie stared at her step-mother in consternation. ‘But you must come with me,’ she protested. ‘Please, Mam, I want you to,’ she pleaded desperately. For although she wanted her new life and its independence, inwardly Hettie felt vulnerable and uncertain, and very much in need of Ellie’s love and support. How could she think of putting seeing Iris before something so important as helping her to find the right dress for her new job? Even Connie was frowning at her.

  ‘Hettie, I am sorry,’ Ellie said, seeing the disappointed look on Hettie’s face. ‘But Iris is only in Liverpool for tomorrow, and it is important that I see her…’

  ‘But I need you to help me choose my dress.’ Hettie was ready to burst into tears.

  After one look at her pale face and tear-filled eyes, Connie attempted to placate her by saying calmly, ‘Of course you are disappointed that your mother can’t go shopping with you, Hettie. But I can come with you and I’m sure between us we shall be able to find the right thing.’

  Somehow Hettie managed to swallow back her tears and nod her head, but it just wouldn’t be the same fun without her.

  Even worse was to come!

  At four o’clock, the whole family, including Connie’s three young children and her husband, all sat down together to eat a traditional high tea as a treat. Afterwards, Hettie entertained the children by playing spillikins with them, and telling them jokes, until it was time for them to go to bed.

  ‘You’ve made a rod for your own back now, Hettie,’ Connie teased her when she returned to the parlour having tucked her children up in their beds.

  ‘They are already demanding to know when they will see you again, and I can see that from now on Sunday will definitely be their favourite day of the week.’

  Hettie smiled. It was a comfort to know that Connie, Harry and the children were just around the corner. It made the whole move to Liverpool a little less daunting.

  ‘Connie, I’ve been thinking.’ Ellie broke in to her sister’s conversation. ‘It seems foolish for Hettie to return home to Preston with me, only to have to travel all the way back to Liverpool again within a matter of days. Could she possibly stay here with you until she moves into the lodging house next week?’

  ‘But Mam, I will need to go home with you to pack my things,’ Hettie protested anxiously. Her pride wouldn’t let her behave like a baby and say that she had just discovered she wasn’t quite ready to leave home so very quickly and that she wanted to say goodbye ‘properly’ to all her favourite things and, more importantly, her favourite people. An uncomfortable, unhappy feeling was lying like cold stone in her chest. For virtually all her life she had taken Ellie’s presence and love for granted. Now she was both hurt and shocked that Ellie should talk about parting with her so easily and casually.

  ‘It is just as easy for me to pack them for you, Hettie, and have your trunk sent direct to Mrs Foster’s,’ Ellie told her.

  ‘Of course Hettie is welcome to stay here,’ Connie said, smiling.

  But Hettie couldn’t smile. A huge lump of misery was blocking her throat. At first, Mam hadn’t wanted her to leave home at all, but now it seemed as though she couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Hettie had to concentrate very hard to squeeze back the tears threatening to fill her eyes again. The dizzyingly intense feeling of happiness that had filled her when Mrs Buchanan had told her that she had got the job had been replaced by a forlorn sense of loss.

  ‘Ellie, you aren’t asleep yet, are you?’ Connie whispered, opening Ellie’s bedroom door and stepping inside. She looked questioningly at her sister as she lay in bed, propped up against the pillows. ‘Only it’s been such a busy day we haven’t had time to talk to each other properly.’

  Ellie smiled as Connie sat down on the side of her bed, and put down the book she had been reading.

  ‘Hettie is very disappointed that you aren’t going to be able to go with her to choose her dress,’ Connie began, watching as a small shadow darkened Ellie’s eyes. She sighed. She too, in truth, had been surprised. She knew how much Ellie loved Hettie, the only girl in her family, whom she had brought up as her own from a very young age.

  ‘I know. I’d love to be able to go with her, Connie, but I have to see Iris.’

  The shadow was there again and Connie’s heart missed a beat.

  ‘Ellie, something’s wrong. I can tell, what is it?’

  ‘I’m going to have another child.’

  Connie frowned. ‘But, Ellie, surely that’s good news?’

  Ellie gave her a wan smile. ‘Connie, I’m thirty-five, and my youngest child is ten. Gideon and I wanted there to be more children, but after so long without there being one…’ Ellie paused and looked at her sister. I can’t say any of this to Gideon because he is already worrying enough…because of our mother.’

  ‘Our mother? But she was older than you and had been warned not to have any more children,’ Connie protested, and then looked anxiously at her. ‘Ellie, tell me you have not been given the same warning?’

  ‘No, no. Nothing like that. But…This time somehow it feels different – not right in some way. I can’t explain it properly, Connie, but I just feel so worried, and I thought if I could see Iris and talk to her about it…The problem is that she’s been away, and she’s only going to be in Liverpool for a few hours inbetween journeys. I’m to see her at her father’s Rodney Street Chambers. Naturally, I don’t want to say anything to Hettie about my reasons for wanting to see Iris. She would worry and feel that she had to stay at home with me and the last thing I want is for her to have to carry the same burden of guilt our mother’s death left to me.’

  ‘But Ellie, you are not our mother, and you must not think such dreadful things. There is no reason for you to fear there is anything amiss,’ Connie told her bracingly, causing a small smile to flicker across Ellie’s face. How very typical it was of Connie’s training as a nurse that she should adopt such a stalwart and reassuring manner! ‘You are right, though, to see Iris. She is a wonderful doctor and very highly thought of. I do think, though, that it might be better if you explained to Hettie why you want to see Iris. She’s feeling very hurt.’

  ‘It isn’t as straightforward as that, Connie. At first when Hettie said that she wanted to apply for this audition I was against it. And I admit that a large part of me would still prefer her to remain at home. I had looked forward to having her at home with us until she marries, to be my friend as well as my daughter. But Gideon is concerned that if we refuse she might…’

  ‘Run away as I did?’ Connie suggested before shaking her head. ‘Hettie loves you and Gideon, Ellie, and is loved by you – you needn’t worry that she is going to flee the nest and cut her ties.’

  ‘I know that, and I know too that if she felt I needed her she would stay, but it
would be wrong of me to allow her to do that when I know how much her singing means to her. And it is because of that I cannot tell her why I need to see Iris. Please don’t tell her, I beg of you,’ Ellie beseeched her younger sister.

  ‘Very well, Ellie, if that is what you wish,’ Connie agreed, unwilling to add to her sister’s distress by telling her of her own belief that nothing good could come of keeping something so important a secret from Hettie. With reluctance, Connie agreed she would remain silent.

  Alone and unable to sleep in the pretty guest bedroom her new grown-up status had entitled her to occupy, instead of sharing the nursery with Connie’s children like she normally did, Hettie sat up in bed, wrapping her arms around her knees. A tear trickled down her cheek followed by another. She had been so happy hours before but now she was so unhappy, and all because Mam had told her that she wouldn’t be going back to Preston.

  Didn’t Mam care about her any more? Didn’t she love her any more? Suddenly Hettie longed to be a little girl once again, able to pad barefoot from her narrow bed in the nursery downstairs to the big bedroom Mam and Dad shared, and then to find her way through the darkness to Mam’s side of the bed where somehow she was always awake and waiting for her, ready to lift her up and tuck her against her side. There, secure in Ellie’s arms and Ellie’s love, Hettie had easily forgotten whatever it was that had woken her and gone contently back to sleep.

  Hettie looked hesitantly towards the door, wondering if she should go and find Ellie now. But she was not a little girl any more, was she? It was time to stand on her own two feet.

  FOUR

  ‘We’ll go straight to Bon Marche, I think, Hettie,’ Connie decided vigorously as the three of them sat around the breakfast table. Harry had already left for work, whilst the children had been despatched to the nearby park for some fresh air in the charge of the young orphan girl Connie had taken in who helped her with them.

  Hettie forced herself to smile and nod her head, knowing that normally she would have enjoyed the thought of a shopping trip with Connie, and not wanting to be thought rude. But both Connie and Ellie noticed how strained she looked and how her mouth trembled as she tried to smile.

  ‘We don’t want to lose any time so if you’ve finished your breakfast I think we should make an early start. If we do, we will have time to go into Bon Marche. They have all the very latest fashions in that department store,’ she added importantly. ‘Not that I am suggesting you should have anything from there, Hettie, it would be far too expensive, but there would be no harm in just looking round to get some ideas.’

  Obediently Hettie pushed back her chair and stood up.

  ‘What time are you meeting Iris, Ellie?’ Connie asked her sister.

  Ellie put down her teacup and said lightly, ‘Actually, Connie, I’ve changed my mind about that, and decided to come along with you and Hettie instead. Your shopping trip sounds too much fun for me to miss and I know that Iris will understand. I’ll telephone her, though, if I may. She’s staying with her parents, and I was going to see her there.’

  The two sisters exchanged silent looks whilst Hettie, oblivious to their exchange, rushed towards her step-mother, her face breaking into a wide smile as she exclaimed, ‘Oh Mam, I’m so happy that you’re going to come with us.’

  ‘So am I, my love,’ Ellie responded gently. ‘Now go upstairs and make yourself tidy, we don’t want the posh sales ladies in Bon Marche to think we’ve taken you to the wrong department and that you’re a schoolgirl still and not a young lady!’

  Humming happily under her breath Hettie almost danced from the room, the sound of her happiness as she sang to herself all the way up the stairs drifting down to Ellie and Connie as they stood together in the parlour.

  ‘Ellie…’ Connie began, but Ellie shook her head.

  ‘Connie, I could hear Hettie crying in her sleep last night, just like she used to do when she was little. I forget sometimes just how sensitive she is, one minute up in the heights of happiness, the next in the depths of despair, but always no matter what her mood so very loving. Besides, as you pointed out to me yourself, there is no real reason for me to worry, and I am sure Iris would say as much herself.’

  ‘Well, if you are sure.’

  ‘I am,’ Ellie answered her firmly. ‘Now, I’d better go upstairs and make myself tidy as well. But first I’ll telephone Iris.’

  ‘Oh, how lovely it smells in here,’ Hettie exclaimed as she took a deep breath of Bon Marche’s perfumed air, one arm tucked into her step-mother’s and the other into her aunt’s, her face alight with happy anticipation.

  ‘All the wealthy ladies of Liverpool come here to buy their clothes,’ Connie told her importantly. ‘Why, one can even buy gowns here that have come all the way from Paris, made by Mr Worth himself.’

  ‘Connie, don’t put ideas into Hettie’s head, please.’ Ellie laughed. ‘Gideon is a generous husband and father, but even his generosity does not stretch as far as a couture gown. This is a special treat to celebrate Hettie’s new job but we must still be sensible.’

  ‘Mm. Remember that dress you made for me before you were married, Ellie? It was so very pretty. The fabric was cream with small bunches of cherry-coloured flowers, and you’d trimmed it with cherry-red ribbons.’

  In the years when she had had to struggle to support herself and her brothers and sister, Ellie had managed by sewing things for other people, at first by hand and then later with the sewing machine she had bought by selling off locks of her long hair.

  ‘Ooh, look at that!’ Hettie exclaimed, looking round-eyed at a display of rouges and other cosmetics.

  ‘You are pretty enough without needing to use any of that, Hettie,’ Ellie warned firmly, determinedly drawing her away.

  It took them over an hour to make their way through the exclusive department store as Hettie was constantly distracted and delighted by the luxurious goods on sale. She had never seen clothes such as these. Gowns in rich jewel-coloured delicate fabrics. Silks and satin, and all in the very latest bias-cut style. So very different from the far more sturdy garments in stout, sensible worsted woollens and brightly printed cottons that Hettie was used to.

  These fabrics shimmered and danced beneath the chandeliers with every passing movement. Hettie longed to reach out and touch them but did not dare to do so. These were clothes for women who lived a life very different from the one her family led, Hettie acknowledged. These were clothes for rich ‘ladies’ not working class women like themselves. And the styles! Dropped waists, short skirts, huge bowed sashes – dresses for every imaginable occasion.

  Under the eagle eyes of the hovering sales assistant, she gazed in awe at the evening gowns and luxurious furs on display, for once lost for words.

  ‘That would suit you, Hettie,’ Ellie murmured, pointing out to her a red silk tea dress displayed on a mannequin, the fabric overprinted with orange poppies and the hem of the dress fashionably short to display not just the mannequin’s ankles, but also her calves. Hettie reached out and touched the silk gently, and then looked uncertainly up at her step-mother.

  ‘But you said we would buy my dress from George Henry Lee’s and that we were only coming in here to look,’ she reminded her.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind.’ Ellie smiled. ‘This dress would be perfect for you, wouldn’t it, Connie?’

  Hettie could not believe she was serious. The ravishingly pretty dress was beyond anything she had ever even dared to dream of possessing.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Connie agreed immediately. ‘And the colour would be perfect for Hettie with her dark hair and lovely pale skin.’

  Hettie looked from one smiling face to the other. Her da was always teasing her mother that the women of the Pride family were strong and determined to get their own way, and now Hettie could see how right he was.

  An assistant was sailing majestically towards them, sniffing out a potential sale. ‘Mam, I think we should go,’ Hettie hissed.

  But Ellie ignored her
and turned instead towards the assistant, saying firmly, ‘My daughter needs a tea dress. I would like her to try on this one.’ She indicated the red silk.

  Immediately the assistant’s smile widened and her voice when she spoke was warm. ‘An excellent choice, if I may say so, madam, especially for your daughter’s colouring. The dress is French, and its designer was apprenticed to Monsieur Worth himself, as I am sure you will already have guessed. And red is very modern this season, although of course not all young ladies can carry it as well as your daughter will. Is it to be for a special occasion?’ she asked.

  ‘A very special occasion,’ Ellie confirmed, giving Hettie a tender look.

  Ten minutes later, standing before her mother and aunt, her cheeks almost as poppy red as the dress, Hettie waited anxiously for their opinion. When neither of them spoke, her heart thudded to the bottom of her chest. As she had looked at herself in the mirror after the assistant had arranged the deceptively simple straight lines of the dress to her satisfaction, and tied the wide sash around Hettie’s slender hips, Hettie had hardly been able to believe that the reflection staring back at her was her own. Were her throat and arms really so slender and white, her wrists so ethereally fragile? And were those shapely calves and fine-boned ankles really hers? Surely even her lips looked a deeper colour than before. But now the silence from both Connie and, more significantly, Ellie made her wonder what she really looked like.

  ‘Oh, Connie!’

  To Hettie’s consternation, Ellie’s eyes had filled with tears.

  ‘Mam,’ she protested quickly. ‘It’s all right. If you don’t like it I don’t mind. I’m sure we shall find something else.’